


An Illusion of Self-Control

by Lazydesk



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Enemies to Lovers, Established friends/rivals with benefits, Love confessions on ice, M/M, Otabek is wise beyond his years, Pinning Jean, Questionable circumstances of hookup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazydesk/pseuds/Lazydesk
Summary: Yuri Plisetski did not smile. Victor did not tease him. His heart did not flutter at the possibility.Yuri Plisetski and JJ Leroy have been fucking for close to two years. If you ask either of them, it means nothing...until it does.





	1. Whispers in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I will update on Saturday at around 5 P.M. EST

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”   
― Frederico Garcia Lorca

     It always happened in the dark. Hushed whispers and shared kisses in a dark hotel room. Most of the time it was snowing. The light pouring through the window was hazy. The shadows it casted framed naked bodies in eerie light. When all was said and done they would part ways. Their bodies would be sore. Bruises would cover the plains of a pale neck. Scratch marks would adorn the tanned and freckled back of the other. It was empty-but it was something. It was something to hold onto when things got overwhelming. It was something to cling to when the adrenaline wore off and the two were left achingly lonely, craving carnal satisfaction. Sex was a language that both of them spoke maybe too well.

     It was time for Yuri to skate. Katsudon and Victor stood off to the side, shouting their normal bullshit. After seven gold medal wins across the Grand prix series, Worlds, and the Olympics you would have thought those two would have calmed down the cheering. At nineteen Yuri Plisetski had had surpassed his predecessor now coach by a long shot. There was no arguing. He was simply the best. Otabek was always trailing close behind, placing either second or third. Jean was right there with them. Though Yuri suspected that retirement was in the Canadian’s future. A frown graced his delicate features as he slid onto the ice. Taking a breath, he waited. The music came. Yuri skated. It was perfect.

     Another win. How did Victor do this for so many years? It was utterly exhausting to be on top consistently. The banquet was in full swing. Dull piano music drifted through the air. It was almost as bad as the tune the elevators in the hotel played. Jean stood a few feet away talking with a sponsor; Yuri could tell, everyone got the same pinched smile when they were talking to a sponsor. Otabek settled next to him at the bar smelling of citrus and jasmine.

     “Yuri,” His best friend’s tone had entered dangerous territory. It was easy to sense a lecture coming on.

     “Beka.” Yuri took a sip of his champagne. Only two people in the world knew what he and Jean snuck away to go do, or even that they snuck away at all. That was Otabek and Yuuri. Though it was always Otabek that tried to talk him out of it after every competition. The look his best friend was shooting him was withering to say the least. It was always like this between them. Whenever Yuri was saying yes to something, Otabek was following with a firm no.

     “How long do you honestly expect this to go on for?” Otabek asked, voice dropping. That made Yuri pause and then down the rest of his drink. The bartender promptly brought over the tequila sunrise that had been on standby.

     “This whole thing is casual Beka,” Yuri twisted the straw in his drink, “When one of us is done, that’s that. Despite what you may think we have talked about this like adults,” He explained quietly. Sighing, Otabek placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, the touch said more than anything either of them could verbalize.

     “And despite what many people think, you have a fragile heart and a sensitive ego.” Apparently Otabek wasn’t pulling any punches. It was too true for Yuri to deny so he didn’t even bother, “And I see how you look at him Yura. You need to stop before it hurts.” Yuri cracked a self-deprecating smile. It wasn’t that he loved Jean, they had too much animosity for that. Yuri was attached to the feeling. The feeling that someone was there at the end of the night to make him feel something…anything.

     When the night was coming to a close Jean sidled up to Yuri. The smooth glide of his step disguised the six drinks Yuri had seen him down. Immediately Yuri’s lip curled up on reflex. There were still competitors around, all of them milling about.

     “What do you want JJ?” Yuri growled. Jean laughed and it sounded like music in his ears. Just like their entire relationship, if you could call it that, this was routine. Approach, bicker, and fuck. Yuri wouldn’t admit it but what they had was just sex and lies. Lies they told themselves and each other.

     “You look like you aren’t enjoying the party princess. Not happy with your win?” The question caught Yuri so off guard the upturned lip fell, his eyebrows lowered, and all the air rushed from his lungs. Jean noticed and the pretentious smirk was erased from his face.

     “No, no I’m not. Competing is boring when no one can keep up. Otabek does his best and occasionally you beat him out but I’m on an entirely different level than either of you. That’s not my ego, not entirely, but it’s true.” Yuri deflated. For a moment Jean was quiet. There was no bickering, no banter.

     “Do you want to get out of here?” Jean asked and stroked Yuri’s chin boldly. Did Jean even have to ask?

     The door to Jean’s hotel room closed and Yuri was up against the wall. Hot kisses were being trailed down the expanse of his neck. Yuri let out a breathy little noise. Everything about them was always take take take. Tonight something had changed. Everything was going slow, too slow. Pulling away Yuri shrugged out of his suit jacket, not caring that it spilled messily to the floor. Gripping Jean’s tie, he dragged him over the king sized bed and worked the article of clothing loose.

     “What are you waiting for?” It was a weighted question. Jean pulled away. There was a look in his eyes. There was emotion.

     “How much have you had to drink?” Jean asked. Yuri rolled his eyes and surged forward. A single hand was planted firmly to the center of his chest, sending him back against the bedspread. The lights were on, Yuri realized. Jean could see everything.

     “Less than you,” Yuri replied with maybe a little too much snark. Jean leaned back, removing himself from Yuri’s body. Confusion spread through him like a wildfire. They had fucked while drunk plenty of times. If anything it made Jean more bearable.

     “I don’t want to have sex tonight,” Jean said simply. Yuri stared, he tried to look away he really did.

     “Why the hell not?” It was a good question. Taking a deep breath, Jean steadied himself.

     “Because for once I want to kiss Yuri Plisetski and know that you want me for any reason other than the alcohol.” That had Yuri reeling. Was Jean really that fucking stupid?

     “You’re an idiot, did you know that. The first two times I kissed you I kissed you I had nothing to drink the entire night. If you’re not going to fuck me, why am I here?” It was cold and yet Yuri felt a little vindicated while saying it. Jean paused and took another impossibly deep breath.

     “Because I want to actually see you,” Jean spoke softly, “I want to just spend the night with you watching old movies. I want to spend time with you while our clothes are still on. I want a lot of things Yuri, and I know not all of them are things you’ll be willing to give me. So just for tonight, stay. Stay and just talk to me.” The room was silent as Yuri walked away with tears stinging his eyes.

     Victor answered the door on the third knock. When he noticed Yuri’s red rimmed eyes, he opened the door further and ushered him in. Yuuri sat up in bed, blinking his eyes sleepily.

     “I did something stupid,” Yuri sputtered out. Victor wrapped an arm around Yuri’s thin arm and dragged him over to the bed. Squished between his two coaches, he cried. It had been ages since Yuri had shed any tears much less over a man he professed to hate. The married couple to their credit didn’t ask any questions. Victor held Yuri against his chest and Yuuri stroked his hair. The rest of the night was filled with heartache. It had scared him. What Jean had said had been everything Yuri would never allow himself to have. Years ago he promised himself that there would be no relationships until he retired, that there would be no attachments at all. It had been a good plan. Yuri hadn’t realized that Jean had wormed his way passed all of his armor until it was too late.

     “Just go to sleep Yuri,” Victor murmured, “Everything will be better when you wake up in the morning.

     The next morning Yuri decided that Victor was liar. The previous night still hurt. This was his tipping point, the end of the line. There was an unsent message on his phone. The debate was whether or not to send it. Against all better judgement, he did. **I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise. I’m not ready yet.** He thought about it during the plane ride back to Russia. When they landed and he unlocked his phone the reply was sitting idly. **I can wait for as long as you need princess.** Yuri Plisetski _did not_ smile. Victor _did not_ tease him. His heart did not flutter at the possibility. **P.S. I still have your suit jacket. Come find me when you want it back.**   


	2. Moving forwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love hunt me down  
> I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes  
> And feed me, spark me up  
> A creature in my blood stream chews me up
> 
> Give me touch  
> 'Cause I've been missing it  
> I'm dreaming of  
> Strangers  
> Kissing me in the night  
> Just so I  
> Can feel something"  
> -"Touch", Daughter

“Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.”

-Anais Nin

One Year later

Russia

            Things were never simple for Jean. The thing that most people didn’t realize was that there were certain things in his life that were uncertain. Sure he had fame and fortune after years of building a reputation, but a number of things in his life were left unanswered. Well that wasn’t quite right either. They weren’t necessarily unanswered, they were ignored. For a number of years Jean had perfected letting failure and insecurity roll off of him. When things started with Yuri it had been interesting and entirely unexpected. Their first kiss had been against a wall outside a hotel in America. There had been teeth and a small power play between the two of them. The sex had been extraordinary. It was a release of anger and adrenaline that they both needed. Despite the rivalry, despite the small amount of resentment, and despite their differences when Yuri came something tugged at Jean’s heart. The little spitfire’s entire body softened and he held tight to Jean, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Yuri would breathe deep and heavy against Jean’s shoulder, trying desperately to catch his breath. The muscles in his legs would quiver from being overworked. They fucked like that for years and eventually the inevitable happened. Jean fell in love.

            That night in the hotel room, he had reacted on impulse. It was getting tiring, pretending that the sex meant nothing. When Yuri was on top of him rolling his hips in a slow dance trying to pull himself higher and higher into ecstasy, Jean let Yuri use him. When Yuri had his fingers laced in Jean’s hair tugging, he let Yuri use him. When Yuri was angry and hurt and needing release, he let Yuri use him. It went on for so long. Eventually all the feelings that lay deeply buried floated to the surface. Kisses that tasted like vodka were no longer enough. Touches that were careless hurt more than anything. So that night in the hotel room Jean impulsively asked him to stay, to just spend time with him. He wanted more. Jean couldn’t ask for them to make love, but he could ask for just one night to hold Yuri. It had been risky. Jean had known that. In the end his gamble didn’t pay off. The text he received had been unexpected. **I’m sorry**. **You caught me by surprise. I’m not ready yet.** It was short and sweet. Jean could wait. Yuri was worth waiting for.

            Russia was one of Jean’s favorite places in the entire world. The beautiful architecture and sprawling cities were grand. Isabella and him could spend hours at a time traversing the streets exploring. This time was different. Jean was anxious. This was his final assignment in the Grand Prix series. So far Yuri and him had received different assignments, well until now. Isabella could sense his trepidation. The two had been good friends for so long that she could easily pick up on the shifts in his mood. Isabella held his hand with her right and clutched a cup of coffee in her left. Their shoulders brushed. It was subtle. If you didn’t know any better, it might look like they were together. Sure they had tried once. It had been a fun time but not right for either of them. Their friendship hadn’t changed in the slightest. If anything, they had gotten closer.

            “Relax,” Isabella uttered softly and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “You’re working yourself up over absolutely nothing Jean. Yuri isn’t here right now. Just try and enjoy the fresh air,” She soothed quietly. Taking a deep breath, Jean thought of his short program. This year he could beat Yuri, of that he was sure. If there was one thing that could get his head in the game, it was skating. For the first time in years, he had the drive and emotion to win.

_

            Fingers tugged on the roots of Yuri’s thick hair. Making a displeased noise, he turned to look at Otabek. The older man snorted and continued with his work.

            “Yura, your hair is extremely curly. I can’t braid it without pulling a little,” Otabek stated matter of factly. Turning to the wall, Yuri attempted to lull into comfort at the insistence of Otabek’s hands and the quiet of the room. Jean was in Russia. This was development that Yuri wasn’t really sure how to approach. Over the last Year he had done quite a bit of introspection. Their relationship hadn’t been perfect or official but it had been a relationship. At some point Jean had developed feelings and recognized that Yuri wasn’t ready for that. And Yuri, well Yuri had realized too late in the game that he had fallen head over heels. Another sharp tug on his hair had him swinging back into reality.

            “You’re thinking too loud,” Otabek chuckled, “I know you want to see him.” Yuri nodded and clasped his hands together in his lap. It was a bit more complicated than simply seeing Jean. They needed closer and he had a decision to make. It was time to either let go or take the plunge.

            “Am I a coward for admitting I am unsure about what to do?” Yuri almost spat out. It was bitter. Love was supposed to make you feel good; at least that’s what all the stories said.

            “You’ll know what to do when you see him. Yuri you have a rather bad habit of assuming things aren’t going to go your way before you even test the waters. You need to just talk to him, sort everything out.” Gently Otabek rubbed circles into the center of Yuri’s spine, a practiced gesture.

            “Thank you Beka,” Yuri said gratefully. Tying off the intricate French braid, Otabek patted him on the back.

            “It’s just after lunch time so Jean and Isabella should be back any time now.” Yuri instantly paled and shot his best friend a rather nasty look.

            “Is that why you asked me to come here? So I’d have to confront him?”

            “Oh absolutely,”

-

            Isabella and Jean had enjoyed a small lunch and then decided to go back to the hotel. When the sliding doors opened, a familiar petite blond was arguing with a coffee pot. Yuri slammed his open palm into the top of the machine and surprisingly started brewing.

            “I’ll leave you be.” Isabella gave his hand one last little squeeze for courage. Really he shouldn’t be scared to talk to Yuri. They had seen each other naked. They had known each other for over four years.

            “Yuri,” Jean called out softly. The thing about love is that it’s the little things that break your heart. For Jean it was the vulnerable little smile on Yuri’s face when he saw him standing close by. Coffee momentarily forgotten, he approached Jean. Somehow Yuri managed to make himself look small.

            “Do you have my jacket?” Yuri teased quietly testing the waters. It was Jean’s turn to smile.

            “Of course.” Jean hesitantly reached out ran his fingers down Yuri’s bicep, “You can come get it whenever you want.” A grin broke out across the blond’s face. With his right hand, Yuri fiddled with one of the many braided plates of hair atop his head.

            “Well, can I collect it?” there was an extremely nervous stutter to Yuri’s words. As if he was afraid Jean had moved on.  It really wasn’t surprising that he was still so skittish. It meant so much to Jean that Yuri was concerned, nervous. It meant that he was taking this leap of faith with him. With no words to express how he was feeling, Jean tugged Yuri to the elevator. Hopefully faith would lead them.

            There was definitely a difference in Yuri’s demeanor when they stepped inside Jean’s hotel room. There were a number of memories that the two of them had made in spaces just like it. Not all of them were pleasant.

            “I’m sorry,” Yuri murmured. There was something in the way he stood there, curling in on himself that broke Jean’s heart.

            “For what?” Jean asked and caressed Yuri’s jaw. Sad eyes met Jean’s. Leaning up Yuri kissed him lightly on the lips; it was a barely there press.

            “I was being stubborn that night…you startled me and I reacted poorly-” Jean cut him off with another kiss, hands cupping Yuri’s jaw. When they parted Jean noticed there were tears in the corner of Yuri’s eyes.

            “That’s the past,” Jean spoke quietly, “We have nowhere to go but forwards,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize in advance for any gramatical or spelling errors. I wrote and edited this while on painkillers and a muscle relaxer so I make no promises on the quality.
> 
> I can't wait to hear from you!  
> -Avery

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote on a week day! Eventually I will write a fic that doesn't revolve around these two....someday.
> 
> I can't wait to hear from you all.  
> -Avery


End file.
